


Certainty and Faith

by Northernsociety



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Era, Confusion, Everyone Needs A Hug, Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, Men Crying, Mental Breakdown, Pre-Relationship, Sobbing, Soft George Washington, confused george washington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northernsociety/pseuds/Northernsociety
Summary: "The truth of the matter is Hamilton is, in every imaginable way, insufferable and incorrigible, and Washington is duly captivated. So captivated that it has become a matter of urgency to establish the facts of the situation."Also known as the one in which George Washington tries to find out for certain what is going on between him and his chief of staff.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

George Washington is nothing if not observant. And what he has observed recently has set his mind to thinking about things that have no place in the mind of a general. He has taken to pacing the floor of his office relentlessly, trying to shake loose the improper thoughts that have lodged themselves into his conscious, his subconscious and everywhere in between. The irony is not lost on him that the restless pacing is a habit he has picked up from the very object of his anguished attentions – his chief of staff.

The very same chief of staff who Washington is _sure_ has been trying to… well, he can’t quite be sure, actually. The lingering glances could well be a hopeful figment of his imagination. But combine those with the accidental – or not so accidental– touches that have been creeping more frequently into their interactions? What then?

The truth of the matter is Hamilton is, in every imaginable way, insufferable and incorrigible, and Washington is duly captivated. So captivated that it has become a matter of urgency to establish the facts of the situation.

‘You asked to see me, Your Excellency.’

He had not noticed Hamilton’s arrival, and being caught off guard makes him uneasy – as if the boy could have read his thoughts in his unchecked movements.

‘Indeed. Take a seat, Hamilton,’ he says, gesturing to the rickety old chair opposite his desk. Washington has recently come to think of it as ‘Hamilton’s chair’, due to the amount of time his chief of staff spends there, hunched over a hurriedly cleared space on the desk to take down important dictations.

Hamilton sits, his posture poker straight as Washington rounds the desk to his own sturdier seat. Hamilton’s expression is passive and curious, and Washington is unnerved by the lack of confident mischief that he usually finds there.

‘What can I do for you, sir?’ asks Hamilton.

Washington wavers. The certainty he felt in going through with this experiment has been shot to pieces by Hamilton’s angelic demeanour. But he cannot turn the boy away after summoning him so suddenly.

‘I have some correspondence that needs a more subtle touch than I can manage,’ he says, trying to match Hamilton’s neutrality of tone and expression. He suspects is failing. ‘I am in need of assistance.’

‘Very good, sir,’ says Hamilton with a submissive bow of his head. ‘Give me the details and I’ll have it with you before nightfall.’

‘No, Hamilton,’ says Washington, hoping Hamilton cannot hear how his voice has thickened due to the dryness of his mouth. ‘You will come to me after nightfall. It is a matter of the utmost discretion. We will complete the work here.’

And there it is. A flash of something across the boy’s face. Comprehension? Washington wishes he could be certain. His pulse flutters into an impossible rhythm, blood rushing and pounding in his ears as he waits for some kind of response.

Hamilton licks his lips, his eyes dark as he meets Washington’s gaze at last. ‘As you request, sir.’

‘Thank you. And make sure you dismiss all of the other aides. It will not do for us to be disturbed.’

Hamilton nods in agreement, his eyes still on Washington. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘No,’ replies Washington, feeling exposed under the intensity of Hamilton’s gaze. There is something else in the boy’s expression now, but Washington has long ago given up trying to decipher anything from these strange moments between them. ‘You may return to the workroom.’

As Hamilton bids him a good evening, Washington is buoyed by the knowledge that they will spend a few hours together later tonight. Even if he does not dare go through with phase two of his experiment, it will be a perverse pleasure to spend another confusing, exhilarating evening with his chief of staff.

He is almost sure that they are on the same page. The way Hamilton looked at him when he suggested they meet after nightfall… he _licked his lips_ for goodness sake. And how his eyes darkened – Hamilton may well be in control of everything else, but even he cannot hide his heart’s true feelings if someone is looking closely enough.

Yes, Washington is almost certain that if he were to push the boundaries in the empty house after darkness has fallen, he would suffer no admonishment from Hamilton. He rubs his hands over his face with one question thrumming through his veins as he tries to settle his thoughts and quieten his mind; is almost certain good enough?


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not that Alexander Hamilton isn’t a religious man. He just has trouble putting the entirety of his trust in a power that he cannot see. It would be nice, he thinks, to believe without doubt that things are exactly as they should be – that there is a greater plan. But experience has taught him that faith alone is not always enough. Whenever he has wanted something, he has always taken matters into his own hands. Leaving things to the design of the universe has never been his way.

He ascends the stairs to Washington’s private quarters, supressing a grin. In this instance, his intervention has proven fruitful. Washington had practically fallen apart in front of him when he requested Hamilton’s presence after nightfall – it had been glorious to watch and even more glorious to replay over and over in the hours since.

He taps lightly on the door, swinging it open without waiting for a response – as always. In some ways, it is another power play, but Washington has never complained.

‘Good evening,’ says Washington as Hamilton lets the door fall closed behind him. He considers bolting it for a moment, but he does not want to be so _obvious_. Washington’s lack of certainty is more than a touch endearing, and he could enjoy this game for an eternity if he were a more patient man.

‘Good evening, sir,’ he replies, adopting the passive expression of innocence that had caused Washington so much incertitude only hours ago. ‘How may I be of service?’

He allows his gaze to rake over the vast expanse of Washington’s chest as he drags out the last word before looking Washington directly in the eye, as though nothing is amiss. Oh, such sweet bewilderment on the face of his General.

‘Ah, I should have sent word down to you,’ says Washington, a telling rush of pink colouring his cheeks. ‘The correspondence can wait until morning, so I have no need of you this evening.’

‘Oh?” replies Hamilton, taking several steps further into the room. It is a contradictory action that Washington did not expect, judging by the wild look that has now settled in his eyes. If he is trying to back out now, Hamilton does not intend to make it easy. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ replies Washington too quickly. His voice is light and shaky, betraying the shallowness of his breathing.

‘I can always take some quick notes now, if it will speed up our work tomorrow?’ suggests Hamilton. He is standing beside the desk now and uses the opportunity to reach over Washington to pluck a quill from the desk. He makes sure his hand brushes Washington’s, his chest nudging into muscular shoulder.

‘No, Hamilton,’ says Washington, too quick, too desperate. ‘Please...’

‘Sir?’ replies Hamilton, feigning wide-eyed puzzlement. Washington pushes his chair back, away from Hamilton. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Please,’ repeats Washington.

‘I don’t understand,’ says Hamilton, his tone dripping with mock hurt as he takes a step back. ‘I’m just trying to help. Tomorrow there’ll be so much to do…’

‘I think you do understand, Hamilton,’ says Washington in a voice barely more than a whisper. He rises to his feet then hesitates, unsure of his next step. He is panicked and flighty. ‘And if that is so, then you will not press the matter.’

And so Hamilton is out of ideas. He has asserted his position as clearly as he can without putting it into words. While he has enjoyed perplexing the General, he has been sure to tip his hand whenever he has seen Washington waver too much. He does not understand.

He knows what Washington intended when he called him here tonight – he had faith that his plan had worked at last. But now he is not so sure. The General is a man with an iron will, and for the first time, Hamilton is uncertain.


	3. Chapter 3

Washington tries to breathe, but he can still feel the weight of Hamilton leaning over him. It has become too much too suddenly, and the general is out of his depth. Hamilton is watching him, the passive innocence now gone from his face, replaced instead by an expression of anxious puzzlement. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but for once words have failed his irrepressible chief of staff.

‘Do you want me to leave?’ asks Hamilton at last, finding his voice.

Washington remains frozen. He had not expected to panic like this. He has seduced and been seduced many times, but never with so much at stake. He had thought his biggest doubt had been whether Hamilton reciprocated his intentions, but the heat of the moment has cast a sharp light on a plethora of other problems and considerations that he has so far pushed to one side. His rank, to start with. Oh, how easy it was to summon the boy to him.

‘I don’t know,’ mutters Washington, rubbing a hand over his face.

‘Sir, what’s wrong?’ Hamilton’s face is a picture of concern that would be laughable at any other moment in time. He makes a move towards Washington, as if to comfort him, but then seems to think better of it. His arm falls limply to his side. The gesture tugs at a knot of complication in Washington’s gut. It has never just been pure lust – Hamilton’s flirtations have no doubt concealed a tender affection that he could never have guessed at.

Washington sits back down, bracing his palms on the tops of his thighs. He inhales as much air as his lungs can take and summons the courage to look Hamilton in the eye. Disquietude and worry have settled into place there – unfamiliar and unwanted. It would be unkind to send him away without so much as an assurance or an explanation.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong,’ he admits. Hamilton must recognise his helplessness as he is emboldened to take a step forward and place his hand on Washington’s shoulder. Tentative.

‘Have I misjudged this whole thing completely?’ asks Hamilton, rubbing his thumb across the coarse material of Washington’s jacket.

‘Not in the way you imagine,’ replies Washington. ‘You are right if you have thought about why I summoned you tonight in the first place. I won’t be coy about that. We have circled each other for too long to pretend otherwise. But we both may have misjudged my conscience.’

‘Ah,’ says Hamilton softly. He takes another step forward. Bolder. Both hands on Washington’s shoulders now.

‘Hamilton, I’m not sure I can…’ whispers Washington.

‘I _am_ sure,’ replies Hamilton, stepping into the space between Washington’s knees. His proximity is heaven and Washington can only gaze up at him, breathing in his familiar scent of ink, coffee and thick cotton. ‘If you’re worried about your rank… If you’re worried that you’ve coerced me, then nothing can be further from the truth. Had I known the tenderness of your heart, I would not have played such games with you.’

‘My heart is not tender,’ scoffs Washington.

‘I beg to differ.’

‘My boy, do you tell the truth when you say I have not coerced you into coming here tonight? Are you honestly here of your own volition?’

It is Hamilton’s turn to scoff. ‘I practically invited myself here tonight. That was the goal of my outrageous flirting, and I would have been heartily offended were I not invited here as my reward.’

‘You make a good point,’ replies Washington, bringing trembling hands to rest on Hamilton’s hips. ‘But you still have to obey my orders. What if you hadn’t wanted…?’

‘Have a little more faith in your judgement, sir,’ replies Hamilton. ‘I don’t believe you would have asked me here were you in any way uncertain of my feelings. And were you proven wrong, I trust you would not have forced the issue?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘What’s more,’ says Hamilton with a grin, ‘when have I ever been averse to a bit of insubordination if the orders do not please me?’

‘You reassure me in this instance, my boy,’ says Washington with a chuckle, relaxing his head against Hamilton’s chest. ‘I can’t say I’m pleased with my actions or myself, but at least I have not hurt you in any way.’

‘Although that too would be welcomed,’ replies Hamilton, tangling his fingers into the General’s hair, earning a whimper in response.

‘You are insufferable,’ says Washington, leaning into the touch. ‘Utterly, wonderfully insufferable.’

Hamilton tugs at Washington’s hair, tilting his head back until he can duck down to taste Washington’s mouth. Washington marvels at how gentle the kiss is – a jarring comparison to the firm hand on his head. He relinquishes control, allowing the adrenaline from earlier to course out of his veins, leaving him exhausted, weak and satisfied. He returns the kiss, slow and languid, whimpering at Hamilton’s touch in a display of vulnerability would have been shameful on any other day. But he is too wrung out to care.

After several long minutes – blissful minutes – Washington pulls away. The day has been too much, and he does not trust himself to keep his emotions in check if they go any further. He rests his forehead once more against Hamilton’s chest, breathing deeply. He wants nothing more than to pull the boy against him and cry until every emotion has been burnt up with the effort.

‘I’ve got you, sir,’ says Hamilton, his hands returning to rub Washington’s shoulders with a softness that Washington did not believe could belong to his cocksure chief of staff. This surely cannot be the same young man who plays such ruthless, flirtatious games.

And Washington breaks, slowly but surely, held secure against his boy. The pressures of the war, the toll of this game between them, the nagging of his own brutal conscience – they have all caught up with him at once. It is not how he thought the evening would go when he had tried to play Hamilton at his own game.

And Hamilton – thank _God_ for him. Patient as Washington sobs against him, hands around his waist in a crushing grip that must surely bruise the fragile skin there. Gentle as he soothes and calms and shushes. He does not demand, he does not push, he does not _move_. He is as solid as Washington is unsteady – a perfect counterbalance that restores Washington’s faith that the universe might have a plan after all.


End file.
